


The War Within

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sehun is a lil shit, Shameless Smut, bottom!jongin, just a lot of filth, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11488929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: In which Sehun is a mafia boss, and Jongin is a tattoo artist.





	The War Within

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Sehun's The War teaser. All that chest, all those tattoos.

Streets are narrow in this seedy part of town, and they’re always filled to the brim with people. Small, illegal stores pop up every few feet, wheels attached to the bases of the stands just in case they have to flee from half-assed police.  
  
Oh Sehun, one of Seoul Underground’s most feared mafia bosses – not that there are many of them nowadays –, lives right in the centre of this shitty area. It’s not as if he’s unable to afford to live anywhere else; no, he simply prefers the darkness and griminess of it all. In this place, people are desperate for any semblance of a good life. With desperation comes fear and reverence of those in power, and _that_ is why Sehun stays.  
  
He’s young, but his ruthlessness and strong sense of right or wrong has brought him great notoriety. If you cross him, he’ll make sure you pay. He kills quickly, efficiently, and makes sure there are never any witnesses. Even so, as a result of the whispers pushed around by wind, people still know of the man behind the bloodshed.  
  
The fact that he’s insanely good looking doesn’t help either. People stare too much, talk about him too much, point too much. It’s hard to stay inconspicuous when you’re Oh Sehun. But being known also comes with great benefits.  
  
What Oh Sehun wants, Oh Sehun gets. And today, Oh Sehun wants a new tattoo.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He’s been hearing good things about the new tattoo parlour sitting between the affluent side of town and what Sehun’s come to nickname the Shithole. So, on a gloomy Tuesday, Sehun leaves his manor – the only building in the area that receives constant upkeep – and ambles through the streets, flanked by his bodyguards.  
  
The sea of people part for him, no one daring to reach out and contaminate Sehun with their dirty hands. Sehun spares them nary a glance, but he does order one of his bodyguards to give a malnourished child some money. Hey, he’s only a dick to those who deserve it.  
  
The storefront is oddly tame, simple black lettering across the top of the white stone wall reading _The War_. A sign hanging behind the door informs them that the parlour is indeed open. Sehun waits for his bodyguard to open the door before stepping in.  
  
“Out,” his bodyguard orders, and a raven haired girl scurries out of the door immediately. Leaning against the doorframe, Sehun watches with amusement as the person behind the desk stares after the girl’s retreating back in confusion. The confusion fades instantly when his eyes land on Sehun’s face.  
  
“Oh,” he utters. His eyes are comically wide, and Sehun can detect traces of awe and nervousness in those chocolate irises. Ah, he’s cute, even cuter in person. Sehun likes cute things – and he really likes _this_ cute thing.  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Sehun mocks, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yes, that’s me.”  
  
Kim Jongin (Sehun knows his name, for he has done his homework) blushes instantly and rises from his seat.  
  
“Uh, Mr. Oh –”  
  
“Call me Sehun, please. That makes me sound old. I don’t look old, do I?”  
  
“No, of course not,” Jongin says hastily. “Not at all.”  
  
Grinning, Sehun takes a step forward. “Portfolio?”  
  
“Yes, um, let me just go get it.” Jongin turns, trips over his chair, and darts into his office. Sehun can only imagine how red his face is right now.  
  
Sure enough, when Jongin emerges from his office, black file in hand, his cheeks are still tinged red.  
  
“Did you get a sunburn?” Sehun asks innocently, accepting the file proffered to him. Jongin looks adorably confused. “Your cheeks are quite red.”  
  
The tattoo artist chokes on his spit, and one of Sehun’s bodyguards snorts. Sehun fights the urge to grin.  
  
Smiling pleasantly, Sehun opens the file and flips through the artwork.  
  
“Have any of these been used on others?”  
  
“No,” Jongin replies, “everything in there has not been inked on anyone.”  
  
Sehun hums and flips another page.  
  
“Give me everything on this page.”  
  
The artwork on that page ranges from coloured characters to black and white drawings of ships.  
  
“Everything? There really isn’t any correlation between those drawings,” Jongin informs him, a little confused.  
  
Shrugging, Sehun says, “Art doesn’t need to make sense, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
Nodding, Jongin retrieves the file from Sehun’s hands and gets to work creating a stencil.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Please lie back,” Jongin says, smoothing out the stencil in his hands. “And uh, unbutton your shirt, please.”  
  
“You don’t have to be so polite,” Sehun comments, leaning back in the chair. “Or nervous. I’m don’t bite.”  
  
Swallowing, Jongin nods, eyes purposefully trained on his hands.  
  
“Unless you want me to,” Sehun continues, fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt. Jongin turns a nice shade of crimson. He’s so busy trying to calm himself down that he doesn’t notice how Sehun’s patiently waiting for the stencil to be applied.  
  
“Hey, Kim. We’re not paying you to sit around. You’d better get moving, or –”  
  
Sehun shuts his bodyguard up with a raised finger.  
  
“It’s okay,” he drawls, “let him take his time.”  
  
The second Jongin glances up, Sehun shifts imperceptibly, allowing the panels of his shirt to fall open just a little more. Across from him, Jongin’s eyes land on the wide expanse of skin and he reddens for what seems like the 100th time that day. Feeling a little (just a little) bad for all the teasing he’s heaped on the artist, Sehun decides to refocus his attention on something else.  
  
“That looks good,” he comments, eyeing the stencil sitting in Jongin’s lap.  
  
“Thanks,” comes the meek reply, and Sehun watches as Jongin fiddles with a tub of Vaseline. He turns around, a glob of the jelly perched atop of a gloved finger.  
  
“I’m just going to spread a thin layer of this on your skin,” Jongin says, inching closer. “Might be a little cold.”  
  
Tilting his head back, Sehun lets Jongin smear Vaseline all over his chest.  
  
“Placing the stencil on now,” he hears Jongin say, and promptly feels a crisp sheet of paper pressing down on his body.  
  
“Alright, please take a look at the placement and see if you like it.” Jongin gestures to a full-body mirror across the room. Sliding off the chair, Sehun takes a few steps over to scrutinize the pen marks on his skin.  
  
“I’m happy with it,” Sehun announces.  
  
“That’s great; if you’ll return to your seat, we’ll get started in a minute.” As Jongin busies himself with taking out pots of ink and a few packages of needles, Sehun signals for his bodyguards to leave the room.  
  
“We’ll start with the outlines – oh, where did your bodyguards go?”  
  
“Told them to give us some privacy,” Sehun says cheerfully, slipping his shirt off completely. He revels in the way Jongin’s eyes widen.  
  
“Oh, I think something smudged; can you look at it? I hope it’s not too bad,” Sehun sighs, pointing at a spot on his chest.  
  
Rising to his feet, Jongin steps over and leans down.  
  
“I don’t see anything wrong with –”  
  
His words are promptly replaced with a surprised yelp when Sehun’s lips descend on his own, large hands coming to hold his face firmly in place. The yelp turns into a moan when Sehun licks filthily into his mouth, sucking the soul right out of him.  
  
“Has anyone ever told you how kissable your lips are,” Sehun comments, pulling back just enough to speak. He stares down at Jongin’s mouth, kiss-swollen, and fights the urge to bite down on that lower lip.  
  
“Uh, someone once did,” Jongin answers, mind hazy. “I think?”  
  
“Did that person get to kiss you?”  
  
Distracted by the way Sehun’s thumb is brushing across his lips, it takes Jongin a few seconds to process the question.  
  
“No, he didn’t.”  
  
“Good,” Sehun growls, and pulls Jongin’s bottom lip into his mouth.  
  
The tattoo gun lies forgotten on the workstation’s surface as Jongin scrambles to find purchase – is he even allowed to touch Sehun? He’s saved from his internal debate when Sehun grabs Jongin’s hand and places it in his hair.  
  
“Pull,” comes the rough command, “I like it a little rough; I hope you do, too.”  
  
Sehun’s order goes straight to Jongin’s groin. The tattoo artist curls his fingers into Sehun’s hair and tugs, relishing in the satisfied sounds tumbling out of the mouth covering his. Suddenly, Sehun nudges Jongin back with a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“You’ve got work to do, Kim.” The smirk dancing across Sehun’s thoroughly kissed lips sends a shudder down Jongin’s spine.  
  
“Huh? Right, yeah,” Jongin says breathlessly, reaching behind him for the tattoo gun.  
  
“I want you to tattoo me while on my lap,” Sehun says, eyes glimmering. “Can you do that?”  
  
Jongin stares up at him. “You want me… to sit on your lap?”  
  
“Not a lot of people get the chance to,” Sehun points out.  
  
“Right, but. Um, it might obstruct the light source –”  
  
“We can move the light source,” Sehun says with a smile.  
  
Jongin doesn’t really know how to argue against that, nor does he really want to, so he settles for standing, and wordlessly swings his leg over Sehun’s torso before settling down. The effect of the contact is immediate, but Jongin tries to ignore the pleasant tingling between his legs in favour of doing a good job for one of Seoul’s most dangerous men. Once word spreads that Sehun had chosen Jongin to do his ink, he’s sure to get a large influx of customers – that is only, of course, if Sehun likes the end product.  
  
Aside from their steady breathing, the buzz of the machine is the only sound in the room. Luckily, Sehun doesn’t try to distract him. His hands stay by his sides, and Jongin is able to focus on his work – for the most part. Although Sehun isn’t touching him, he can still feel Sehun’s gaze hot on the crown of his head, and the heat curls around the pit of his stomach like a lazy cat on a sunny Sunday afternoon.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
An hour passes, and Jongin finishes the outline of the ship. His legs are starting to cramp, his back is aching, and any arousal he had is long gone. Sehun can’t be comfortable either, what with Jongin’s weight resting on his pelvis.  
  
“Alright, the ship’s outline is completed. If you don’t want any colour for that, then I can start on another one soon.”  
  
“I want them exactly how you drew them,” Sehun says, peering down at his chest. Jongin sprays an antibacterial liquid onto his skin and wipes it clean of excess ink with a paper towel.  
  
Jongin snorts, feeling a little more at ease in Sehun’s presence after enough exposure. He’s a playful person, Jongin realises, probably only fully embracing the fearsome side of his status when necessary. He can’t bet his life on it, but he’s pretty sure.  
  
“Take a short break, and we’ll continue. Did it hurt much?”  
  
“There were more pleasant sensations to focus on,” Sehun says with his signature smirk. Jongin flushes.  
  
Sehun sits up and leans in close. “Wanna continue where we left off?”  
  
“Where would that be?” Jongin dares to ask, eyes darting down to Sehun’s mouth.  
  
“I was about three seconds away from taking your shirt off,” Sehun informs him kindly. Jongin’s jaw drops.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Somehow, Jongin finds himself sprawled out on the couch in his office, the young mafia boss looming over him, hair falling into those heartstopping eyes. True to his word, Sehun had promptly taken Jongin’s shirt off of his fit frame moments after; the shirt’s somewhere on the tattoo chair, long forgotten.  
  
Running a warm palm down Jongin’s front, Sehun rakes his eyes over the collection of ink he’s got. It’s an intricate monochromatic piece, a bunch of exotic flowers mixed with Celtic inspired designs.  
  
“Did you do this?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin breathes, abs tensing instinctively when Sehun’s fingers brush along the waistband of his jeans. “A cover up for a bad job done by a friend on a dare.”  
  
“So you’re okay with people marking you,” Sehun says, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching.  
  
“W-what, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jongin replies, flustered. Sehun chuckles, casually brushing the tip of a dark nipple with the pad of his forefinger. Underneath him, Jongin inhales sharply, fingers gripping onto Sehun’s forearm.  
  
“Hope you don’t mind if I mark you, too,” Sehun purrs, leaning down and attaching his lips to the smooth column of Jongin’s neck. Jongin doesn’t even bother voicing his permission, and Sehun doesn’t bother waiting for it. Right now, they share a mutual understanding, and a mutual need.  
  
By the time Sehun releases the flesh of Jongin’s neck from his mouth, there’s a dark purple spot blooming. Sehun admires it, laves at it with the flat of his tongue. Jongin whines softly into his hair.  
  
“I’m going to mark every inch of you,” Sehun promises, hands coming to grip at Jongin’s hips. “Just give me some time.”  
  
“I’ll give you all the time you need,” Jongin mutters, forearm placed over his eyes. His cheeks are blazing, and he doesn’t really want to look at the smirk he knows is back on Sehun’s face.  
  
His plan fails miserably when Sehun flicks the tip of his tongue across a nipple; well, he _has_ to look at this. So he lets his arm fall, and opens his eyes to find himself looking straight into Sehun’s. He sees the tip of a pink tongue extend, sees it curl around his nipple, sees straight, white teeth graze along the sensitive nub.  
  
“Jesus,” Jongin mutters, head falling back.  
  
“Wrong name,” Sehun laughs, rolling the other (neglected) nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “But if that’s your nickname for me, I’ll take it.”  
  
Sighing, Jongin simply buries his free into Sehun’s hair and pulls.  
  
“When I decided to come here, I looked you up,” Sehun says, breath ghosting over the stiff peak. “I was debating between you and another artist further up town. But damn, the second I laid eyes on your face… I _really_ had to have you.”  
  
“Let’s make a deal,” Jongin struggles to say, “I’ll do your future tattoos for free – yours _and_ anyone else part of your gang – if you do shit like this every time you’re here.”  
  
“I have a better idea,” Sehun says, a finger dipping lower to trace the outline of Jongin’s erection over his jeans. “I’ll pay you for your work _and_ I’ll make sure you come every time I’m here.”  
  
Jongin thinks he might be in heaven.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongin also finds out that Sehun is an asshole.  
  
Right after Sehun had unbuttoned his jeans, he had pulled back, mischievous grin on his face.  
  
“Time to get started on the next tattoo, don’t you think?”  
  
Jongin pushes himself up on his arms and stares at Sehun with disbelief.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Like the previous round, Sehun makes Jongin sit on his lap. Having to sit on Sehun’s erection with one of his own is by no means an easy feat, and there was a fair number of soft whimpers and held-back moans from the both of them as Jongin tries to get comfortable.  
  
“Don’t distract me,” Jongin warns, breathing heavily. He lifts the tattoo gun. “If I fuck up, it’s on you.”  
  
Sehun simply smiles wider.  
  
This tattoo takes longer, as it needs to be coloured. But Jongin finishes within a couple of hours, empty packages of needles scattered on the ground around them. He cleans it, disposes of the used needles, and pushes himself off of Sehun, wincing at the popping of his joints.  
  
He’s busy pressing on a tense bundle of muscles in his shoulder when a pair of hands fit around his waist and he finds himself pulled back to the couch. He ends up standing in front of a seated Sehun, and their positions sends an anticipatory jolt down to his cock. Sehun looks up at him knowingly. The ache in his shoulder promptly disappears.  
  
“I’ll take this off now, don’t worry,” Sehun croons, pulling the zipper of Jongin’s jeans down in a single tug. “I know you’ve been waiting awhile.”  
  
“What are you talking about,” Jongin mutters, a hand pushing his hair out of the way as he looks down at those lithe fingers hovering around his crotch. “I wasn’t.”  
  
“Of course,” Sehun says, pushing the stiff fabric down around Jongin’s thighs. At the sight of Jongin’s half-hard cock, Sehun looks up and smirks.  
  
“Stop smirking,” Jongin groans, “it’s not fair.”  
  
“My bad,” Sehun apologises, managing to sound absolutely _not_ apologetic, “I’ll put my mouth to better use.”  
  
Another tug, and Jongin feels his boxers slide off. Then, everything happens at once. Hands come to squeeze at his ass, wet heat envelopes the head of his cock, and vibrations from Sehun’s throat dance down his shaft.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he whisper-shouts, hands flying down to grip Sehun’s hair and hold him in place. It requires essentially all of his willpower not to thrust down Sehun’s throat.  
  
“You taste fucking great,” Sehun informs him, before running his tongue up the underside of Jongin’s cock. A hand leaves an ass cheek in favour of stroking his balls.  
  
“Thanks,” comes the breathless reply. Jongin’s achingly hard now, easily replacing every single drop of precum that Sehun swallows with glee.  
  
“You can move, you know,” Sehun says, absently caressing the curve of Jongin’s bare back.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You can fuck my mouth,” he rephrases. “I know you want to.”  
  
Jongin pauses. Then, “Yeah, I really want to.”  
  
Grinning, Sehun takes Jongin back into his mouth, relaxing his throat and hollowing his cheeks. He taps Jongin once on the hip, and Jongin takes that as his cue to move.  
  
His hips move tentatively at first, but when Sehun’s eyes dart up to meet his, Jongin dares to move a little faster, a little harder. A dribble of spit and precum trails out of the corner of Sehun’s mouth, and that nearly sends Jongin off the edge.  
  
He thrusts once, twice, thrice – but just before he comes, Sehun pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
“No one comes unless I’m in them.”  
  
At that, Jongin moans.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Vaseline doesn’t go well with condoms,” he says breathlessly, nails digging into the flesh of Sehun’s shoulders as a Vaseline-coated finger brushes against his entrance.  
  
“You’re clean, and so am I.”  
  
“How do you – _ah_ – know I’m – _oh! –_ clean?”  
  
“I looked you up, remember?”  
  
Jongin almost laughs. Of course. What Sehun wants, Sehun gets. Of course he’s prepared.

He makes it a point to squeeze around Sehun’s fingers as they stretch him open, and the sheer amount of lust blazing in Sehun’s eyes tells him that he’s doing a bloody good job of getting the mafia boss all hot and bothered.  
  
“I hope you’re ready, because if you’re not, I’m going to come in my pants,” Sehun deadpans, curling the three fingers currently buried inside Jongin.  
  
His fingers brush the sensitive bundle of nerves, and Jongin cries out loudly.  
  
“Yes, okay, yes, I’m ready. Please just –”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me,” Sehun says, kicking off his pants and underwear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that the only thing you’ll remember after you come is my name, and my name only.”  
  
Forcing himself to keep his eyes open, Jongin stares at Sehun’s chest, watching the newly coloured skin move up and down. _His work,_ Jongin thinks. _Sehun might’ve marked him, but he’s marked Sehun too._ When Sehun pushes in, Jongin wants to marvel at the fullness, wants to cry with joy at the feeling, _wants to come_.  
  
Hooking his legs around Sehun’s waist, Jongin gestures for Sehun to move.  
  
“Harder,” he pants, moans lodging themselves in the middle of his throat with every snap of Sehun’s hips. “Deeper.”  
  
Those damn hips are ridiculously powerful, Jongin discovers, his grip on Sehun’s shoulders nearly dislodged after several particularly hard thrusts. Keeping his weight on one arm, Sehun reaches down between their bodies – careful not to brush against his new ink – and swipes his thumb over the leaking tip of Jongin’s cock.  
  
“Lick,” he orders, bringing his thumb up to Jongin’s lips. Jongin does as he’s told. “See, don’t you taste amazing?”  
  
He repeats the action, and Jongin watches, enraptured, as Sehun sucks the precum off his thumb. He’s instantly reminded of how Sehun’s cheeks had hollowed around his cock and the feeling of Sehun’s tongue flicking over his slit – he comes with a hard shudder, Sehun’s name the only word burning its way up his throat.  
  
Everything goes blindingly white, and the only thing Jongin can feel is the pulsing of Sehun’s cock inside him and tight grip Sehun’s got around his torso.  
  
It takes him forever to come back to his senses, and by that time Sehun’s already spent – Jongin can feel the come slowly running down the curve of his ass and onto his couch. Ah, his couch. Well, he’ll have to get it dry cleaned.  
  
Sehun bends down to give him another hickey; Jongin’s cock twitches.  
  
“You’re mine until I say otherwise,” Sehun says, lips pressed against Jongin’s neck. “Do you understand me?”  
  
“Loud and clear,” Jongin answers, breathing heavily.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“How many sessions will I need?”  
  
“To finish your chest piece, maybe two,” Jongin says, tossing the soiled paper towels away and pulling on his underwear. “Future consultations can be carried out at my apartment.”  
  
“Great. I plan on covering every inch of my body with your work. Might take a while, I hope you have the time.”  
  
“What happens when you run out of skin?”  
  
“I’ll order my men to get inked,” Sehun says, shrugging. He leans in to steal a kiss before returning to buttoning up his shirt.  
  
“And what happens when _they_ run out of skin?”  
  
“Then I guess I’ll just have to hire new people.”  
  
Laughing, Jongin gives Sehun a small tub of salve.  
  
“Spread a thin layer over the tattoos after you shower. I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Sehun breezes out of the door with his smirk, but not before pausing and turning around to tell Jongin not to cover up the hickeys on his neck. If anyone asks, Jongin has to tell the truth.  
  
“Don’t forget, tell them that you’re mine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember kids, don't use Vaseline as lube if you're gonna be using condoms!
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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